Living at a Loss
by Eris Langley
Summary: Omi can't sleep, and decides to go for a midnight jog, only to find someone waiting for him [Due to 2 comments, I've uped the rating... and giving a warning]**Rape,Yaoi**


Omi lay quietly, listening to the silence of Koneko. Everyone was asleep, tormented by nightmares, or the darkness of nothing. They didn't dream, except when nightmares plagued their slumbers, leaving them languid and volatile. He glanced at the clock by his bed, and groaned. He had another 6 long hours until Koneko opened, and he felt to alert to sleep. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling would only drive him into insanity. Omi slid out of the bed, knowing the one thing that would put him to sleep.  
  
He pulled on jeans and a shirt, and padded to the private exit of their house. He slipped on some shoes, and crept out the door. All he wanted was cool night air, and a short jog. Everything was deserted; the streetlights cast empty pools of light, and the streets were dark and quiet. The desolation of it all almost made him despair.  
  
He had been working for Koneko for only a short period of time. He had been sent by Persia, a kind man who had helped him; saved him. He had been sent to a nearby school in efforts for him to seem like a normal boy. But what was normal about an abandoned boy who had been trained in flower arranging and killing? He shook his head he wanted to sleep.   
  
He slowed to a walk as he entered the park. He heard the tiny nocturnal animals scurry away as he approached their hunting grounds. He smiled, and kept walking, hoping to disturb them as little as possible. As Omi continued to walk, he noticed a person, sitting in the darkness between lampposts. Omi smiled and jogged the distance between them.  
  
"Hi! Why are you out late?" Omi greeted, curiously.   
  
"Dia duit. Níl mé ag obair anois." The man responded impassively. Omi blinked. What language was that?   
  
"What?" Omi asked, hoping it was a different dialect than he was used to. The man laughed a harsh, guttural sound.  
  
"Níl a fhios agam." The man was smiling.  
  
"May I sit down?" Omi was still trying to talk to this man, despite the language barrier. He seemed to understand Japanese well enough...  
  
"Is dócha." The man responded, and moved to show Omi his response was positive. "Jay." He pointed to himself, as Omi sat down.  
  
"Omi." Omi grinned, this was getting somewhere. Jay smiled again, the scary, unnerving smile that made you want to start running. Omi smiled back, but as he did he took a better look at the man's face. "Where did you get those scars?" The comment surprised Jay, and traced the scars with his fingers.  
  
"God." The comment held the finality of death. Omi's heart began to beat faster. He felt his breath catch in his throat. The man's golden eyes gave off a glitter of amusement. Is this what that doctor from 'Silence of the Lambs' felt as she interviewed Hector? Scared and confused, but strangely fascinated by this new thing in front of her?  
  
"What language was that?" Omi asked, his voice a little high, as he tried to change the subject. He wasn't particularly fond of talking about scars. Especially to a man who seemed to like them. And, not in a harmless way.  
  
"I have more." Jay's eyes turned excited, as he slit open his shirt with a knife Omi hadn't seen. He was really getting scared. Here he was talking to some psycho on the street that was cutting his shirt open so he could see the scars on his torso. He had left his darts back at the Koneko. A wind whipped open Jay's shirt, revealing white skin, covered with crisscrossing scars, some of which looked as if they should've killed him. Several dipped past Omi's view, wandering down into Jay's pants.   
  
Omi started to look up only to notice Jay's nipples. They were pierced with 4 rings, completely obscuring the actual flesh. He turned a little pink, as he realized how tender the flesh must be. His mouth formed with a breathless "oh" as he took in the whole picture. Or at least as much of the picture he could see, in public.   
  
Jay took Omi's index finger and ran it over a scar he received in his German hell. The boy was too pretty to let alone. Omi would lose what God loved in him; his beauty, his innocence, and his life. He let go of the boy's hand when he was sure he would continue to entrance himself with the scars. The hotel nearby could keep this quiet, and anonymous.   
  
He raised the boy's head, and kissed him. The boy's trance snapped and tremors took him. Jay felt it, and held the boy close. Hot tears fell against Jay, as his prey began to cry. It started quietly, only to escalate into sobs, and whimpering. The sounds reminded Jay of his own sister, as forgotten tears fell into the boy's sandy hair. The light of the nearest streetlight flickered and went out, as Jay and Omi stood up and started toward the hotel.  
  
As the entered the lobby, Omi shivered at the lack of humans, and the total privacy even the lobby offered. Jay turned to him and motioned quietly, all of the fierce and terrifying qualities had dissipated, and had been replaced with something else.   
  
He followed Jay into a plain bedroom, and shut the door behind him. Jay turned toward him and kissed him, like he had in the park. Omi held him close and kissed him back, assuming this was what he needed. Jay's hands unbuttoned his pants, and slid his adept hands straight into his boxers. He worked at Jay's pants frequently having to look down. When he finished, he slid off his shirt, while Jay slid off Omi's pants and boxers. The tender licks and kisses brought Omi to a full erection, and a dark blush.   
  
"Lay down on the bed." Jay ordered quietly and he slid off his own shirt and pants. His pelvis bore only a few scars, and all of those were the ends of one from his chest. Omi lay on the bed as Jay finished undressing. Jay gently pulled Omi forward until Jay could kneel at the edge of the bed and kiss Omi's erection.  
  
Omi let out a cry as Jay took him into his mouth; sucking with such intensity the lines of pleasure and pain were blurred. Waves of both blinded him to everything. He arched his back, moaning as he tried not to come. Jay's pace increased until Omi couldn't hold it. It felt glorious to let go, and kindly, Jay swallowed and stopped. Jay stood up, only to lay himself down on top of Omi, kissing him, and letting Omi feel his erection against Omi's still hard cock.  
  
Jay's kiss was messy, and Omi tasted himself on Jay tongue. The other man brought himself off of Omi, only to roll Omi on to his back. He felt Jay's hands part his ass, and a finger find and probe him, deeply as if it would help. The finger left him, only for Jay's cock to replace it. Pain made Omi cry out, briefly as he assumed Jay should stop. As Jay started pumping himself in and out, Omi screamed, and he felt Jay shiver and pump harder. He flailed against Jay, which seemed to make him go faster and harder. He clawed at the coverlet, then Jay's hands that gripped his shoulders.  
  
He screams became louder and higher, until he couldn't scream anymore. Sobs racked his body and he stopped fighting; until he felt something cool against his skin. He forgot about it as Jay lunged into him one last time, and came, causing hoarse screams from Omi, and more flailing and squirming. A kinder, sharper pain carved against his arched back, tracing his spine. One that seemed familiarly sharp and clear, unlike the dull pain that seemed to shoot up his spine, when Jay thrust himself against Omi. He felt himself let go, as the sharper pain took over, and made things black and fuzzy around the edges. And then there was darkness.  
  
When Omi woke up, he was in his room, and screaming. Manx and Burman watched him quietly, both sitting by his bed. Manx held his hand muttering something until he calmed down. He had a feeling Persia could've been here if he would've been. His back hurt, as did his ass. Both, he was sure, were Jay's fault. Manx looked at Burman, who nodded.  
  
"Omi, you're lucky you're not dead." Manx's voice was calm, but quiet. She squeezed his hand, reassuringly. "You were attacked by a serial killer, who goes by the name 'Farfellow'. He normally rapes and mangles his victims beyond recognition. We'll tell you everything you want to know about him, and it'll be up to you whether you tell the rest of Weiß."   
  
"I don't care." His voice was quiet. "I know all I need to know about him." Burman touched Manx's arm, after waiting for Omi to give a sign or ask question. He turned away from hiding his face in the pillows. He heard the door quietly click behind him, as sobs over took him. He didn't understand why he cried, there was nothing left it could accomplish. He knew, without being told, he would have to find away to live in spite of what had happened; to live despite the rape, the killing, the hopelessness of it all. He'd find a reason for living, even if it killed him; even if he'd be living at a loss.   



End file.
